


Encounter

by Jeegoo



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Biting, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Het, Oral Sex, PWP, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1622126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeegoo/pseuds/Jeegoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elita and Firestar's visit to Iacon turns out to be rather more memorable than they'd expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat inspired by [this picture](http://fav.me/d5ncxkq) by [RedsReddie](http://redsreddie.deviantart.com/). A huge thank you to all my darlings, your encouragement means the world to me! ♥♥♥

\--

Elita-1 had to admit, when she’d originally been informed about Iacon’s most popular bar (and it’s enviable location—close to both the High Council Palace and the Noble Quadrant), this dive had _not_ been what she had pictured. 

It appeared to be reasonably clean, but that might have been because of the dim lighting, or perhaps because her opinion of ‘clean’ differed vastly from a medic’s or a scientist’s. The dockyards didn’t really require the same level of sterilization that a lab or hospital maintained, after all. 

It was, however, precisely as _crowded_ as she’d expected. Mecha were packed in tightly, and the really remarkable thing about that was the massive variety of _castes_ she could see, even with just a brief scan! A gaggle of Seekers were demanding attention towards the center of the establishment, and she was almost certain that a small group of quiet mechs skulking towards the edge of the room were low-level nobles _,_ at the very least. At the other end of the spectrum, she could see a few groups of mecha so low-caste that they lacked the individuality that even a dockworker like _herself_ possessed. 

It felt surreal. She’d never seen such a diverse selection of castes all willingly sharing the same space! 

She was startled out of her scrutiny when Firestar nudged her with a shoulder, and pointed to a table over the other side of the room that had recently been vacated. _::You get the fuel, and I’ll save us a seat?::_ She barely waited for Elita’s ping of assent before she was moving, and Elita could see why; there were at least three other mecha heading in the same direction, purposeful looks on their faces. 

She hoped Firestar got there first. They’d both had to fuel on their feet often enough during shifts, and having to continue the practice on a rare day off was more than unfair!

Elita had only barely reached the bar when a bizarrely framed mech (what _was_ that strange detail on his face?) stepped over to take her order. A surprisingly brief klik later (was the great service the reason this place was so popular?), and she was very slowly and _carefully_ making her way through the crowd with two generously sized cubes of warmed high-grade. A little bit- okay, a _lot_ better quality than what she could ordinarily afford, but what was the point of a bonus if she wasn’t allowed to splurge a little?

She was about halfway to the table when she saw that Firestar hadn’t been _quite_ as successful as she’d hoped. Her colleague was seated at the table, but she wasn’t alone; two smaller mecha sat on her left, one talking animatedly at her while the other sat quietly, looking a little embarrassed. 

The closer Elita got to them, the more nervous she felt. She was close enough now to see the flawless, polished finishes and lightweight armor of a higher caste; not enough to suggest nobility, but most definitely higher than labourers like Firestar and herself. They didn’t look angry at all, thank Primus, but the last thing they needed was a higher-ranked mech with a grudge. Especially over something as petty as a _table._

The quiet one turned to look at her when it became clear exactly where she was headed to, and politely shifted over to give her space on the bench-seat. His friend stopped talking long enough to give Elita a disarmingly charismatic grin before he pinned Firestar down with another barrage of—

Oh, he was listing reasons they should _share_ the table. That was unexpected, but welcome. Firestar turned to her and grimaced apologetically. 

“I’m sorry Elita, I got here first but—”

“Your friend here wouldn’t answer, but I’m guessing from her accent neither of you are from around these parts, are you?”

Firestar huffed, clearly irritated at his prying. “We’re not, no. We only wanted to have a few drinks here on our day off, okay? We’re not looking for any trouble.”

“‘S good, cause we’re not either,” the mech turned that brilliant smile on her again, and gestured at the empty spot on the bench beside his friend. “Why don’t you take a seat, Elita? Orion here doesn’t bite, even when you ask him _nicely_.”

Orion’s venting spluttered in embarrassment. “ _Jazz!_ That... _you!_ ”

The mech designated ‘Jazz’ looked completely unrepentant, and ignored Orion’s horrified reaction to turn that brilliant smile back on Firestar. “Only one mecha here hasn’t been introduced yet; you ready to spill now or will I have to keep callin’ you ‘Lovely’?”

Firestar’s embarrassment was rather more subtle than Orion’s was, but Elita could distinguish it in the way she was holding herself and the tightness of her armor against her frame. “I’m Firestar.” She finally, grudgingly answered. Jazz looked inordinately pleased, however.

Elita gave one last longing glance to the rest of the seating area, but there really was nowhere else free. She settled herself beside Orion (who still looked acutely embarrassed) and returned his awkward, fleeting smile. 

The four of them sat in silence for a klik or so, sipping at their drinks and carefully not making optic-contact, with the exception of Jazz. “Have either of you visited Maccadam’s before?” He asked, clearly amused that no one else had confidence enough start a conversation.

“No.” 

_No_ mech should have looked that pleased about being shot-down. “Hmm. You mentioned it was your day off?” Jazz gave them both a very thorough once-over with his optics. “Mind if I take a guess at your caste?”

“We’re dock workers.” Elita volunteered. Jazz’s moue of disappointment made her tense up, but Orion turned his bright blue optics to her in clear interest. 

“Do you work very far from Iacon?”

Despite her misgivings, Elita answered honestly. “Not far, Kalis.” 

“I’ve never had the opportunity to go there,” Jazz butted in. His earlier reaction might as well have never happened, because he now wore an identical look of interest. “What’s it like?”

“Why would _you_ want to visit? It’s dirty, crowded and noisy.” Firestar was clearly annoyed, but Jazz stayed polite.

“I’m a cultural investigator from the Hall of Records,” he smiled, pointing at one of the image-captures behind the bar of a distinct and grandiose building. “I’ve visited worse places than Kalis in the line of duty.”

Elita stared at the picture for a few moments, relatively certain she’d seen the structure in the distance while she and Firestar had been touring earlier. “If you’ve never been to Kalis, how can you say you’ve been to worse places?”

“Y’ever hear about Kaon?”

Firestar fixed Jazz with an alarmed stare, “Your superiors _made you go to Kaon_?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, Jazz tried to play it off cool. “They knew I could handle m’self. Ain’t nothin’ too tough for the Jazzmeister.”

Orion snorted into his drink, but refrained from speaking. 

“Sounds like your friend disagrees,” Elita commented dryly, sipping her cooling cube. 

There was another klik of silence as Jazz and Orion shared a conversation over comm, with Orion looking more and more amused the longer it continued. 

“He’s stalling you, Orion,” Firestar finally interrupted, once curiosity got the better of her patience. “You should get him back for his earlier comment by sharing the story with us.”

“Oh no you don’t!” Jazz leapt at at his friend, but Orion slipped out of his reach, diving over Elita’s legs so that he could use her as a barrier.

“He came back from Praxus in a huge sulk!” The little mech blurted, peeking over Elita’s shoulder as Jazz pouted melodramatically. “He wouldn’t tell me what exactly happened, but from the reports I saw he got arrested by someone who could take him in a one-on-one fight!”

“They cheated! It wasn’t a fair fight!”

“Sure, that’s why you bought a pair of enforcer-grade cuffs and practiced escaping them for deca-cycles!”

Elita exchanged a glance with Firestar, before they both began to laugh. Perhaps these mechs wouldn’t be such bad company after all?

\--

Elita hadn’t really paid attention when Orion had gotten up to get fuel, too deeply involved in the conversation and enjoying every moment of it. She’d only glanced up as he was walking back to confirm that it was really him, and hadn’t really intended to say anything. 

Unfortunately, the overcharged buzz in her processor had other ideas.

“Primus, _look at you!_ ” She’d exclaimed, staring at the lower half of his body that had earlier been obscured by the table, “You’re so delicate I could squeeze you in half with one hand!”

Elita realized straight away she shouldn’t have spoken; even if she hadn’t meant it that way, her words had still sounded like a threat. But, _Primus!_ His waist was ridiculously narrow, she was certain she could fit both hands around it and have them overlap. And those _legs!_

Orion’s reaction, however ... He stared at her for an astro-second, optics wide and bright with surprise as he processed her words. 

Then his engine gave a very loud and unmistakably excited _rev_ of interest. 

The three of them sat in silence, as Orion’s expression rapidly changed from surprise to mortification. 

“I hope you’re going to follow through on that, ‘Lita.” Jazz murmured from beside her, wearing an incredibly devious grin. “Orion _likes_ it when he gets handled rough by big mecha.” 

“ _Jazz!_ ” Orion’s scandalized squeak was just as adorable as his first one had been, and helped to mollify her own embarrassment. Her motor was purring rather less obviously, systems running hot as Jazz’s statement summoned some _very_ attractive images in her processor. 

She surreptitiously glanced over and gave Orion a very calculating look, something Elita recognised she wouldn’t have had the courage to do had she not been overcharged. The cute little archivist had settled beside her again, but he was very carefully maintaining the space between them—perhaps so she wouldn’t feel the heat radiating from his armor?

It wasn’t working if that was the case; he really was generating a _lot_ of it. Elita deliberately shifted closer to him, and pressed her thigh against his. Orion absolutely refused to make optic-contact, staring down into his cube with determination. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, Orion,” Firestar reached out to lay a comforting hand over his. “I enjoy rough frags too. And Elita _really_ knows how to use her spike!” 

This time, Elita was the one to choke out a protest while Orion merely revved again, helpless to conceal his arousal. Jazz merely snickered into his cube. 

“So, ‘Star said you were staying in a motel a short ways from the spaceport?” Jazz’s smirk was dangerously conniving. “Might be nicer if you went home with Orion, seeing as his apartment is closer. Don’t want you gettin’ lost on your first visit, after all.”

Beside her, Orion jerked out of his slouched pose and gave his friend the most helpless, accusing stare. Jazz responded with a very obvious and deliberate wink. “Don’t be a stranger, _Pax_.”

Orion stared for an astro-second, then relaxed very slightly; enough to smile a little at last, which Elita found reassuring. It _would_ be nice not to have to drive all the way across a foreign city while overcharged. 

A frag would be welcome too, but she wasn’t willing to press. 

“I’d be happy to offer you a berth for the night, if you’d like.” Orion mumbled into his cube, and Elita worried for a moment it was an invitation given out of courtesy, rather than sincerity. 

_::You should accept. He reeeeeally likes you, just not so good at showing it.::_ Jazz commed her, and Elita started in shock. How did he get her personal frequency?

He met her outraged glare with smugness, completely unperturbed. _::No, seriously. Give him an answer before he dies of embarrassment, darlin’.::_

Turning away from him in a very deliberate dismissal, Elita reached out and carefully touched Orion’s shoulder. “I’d love that, thank you for offering.” 

She discreetly ignored Jazz’s rather less subtle offer to Firestar. And ‘Star’s very... enthusiastic response. _Very_ enthusiastic. 

Orion looked up at her with over-bright optics and the most incredibly endearing smile. “Would you like to go now? I don’t think our friends are going to be very good company from this point onwards.”

Looking over her shoulder at them was probably a bad idea, just from the _sounds_ they were making, so Elita nodded gratefully. 

\--

If Elita had thought that the first couple of breems sitting at the table with Jazz and Orion had been awkward, it was _nothing_ compared to sitting beside Orion in his apartment.

She could see the bright overcharge from his optics, reflecting off his folded hands which were politely resting on his lap. Urg, why _did_ he have to be so polite? Elita was more used to partners who preferred being taken in some dim, unobtrusive alley rather than waiting for privacy. Normally by this point she’d be working through the afterglow in anticipation of round two!

Orion didn’t seem to mind that she was staring, if he had even noticed. She just couldn’t help herself; he was so _lovely_ and she wanted so badly to frag him through the wall but the last thing she wanted to do was scare him off or hurt him! Then again... Jazz _had_ told her outright that Orion liked that kind of thing...

Was he waiting for _her_ to make the first move? That might actually make a lot of sense, unless the overcharge was messing with her processor... well, there was only one real way of finding out, right?

Gathering up her courage and praying to Primus that she wasn’t about to ruin her chance, Elita reached out and hooked one arm around Orion’s wonderfully slim waist to pull him into her lap. He made a startled noise in response, but there was no struggle and he only moved to place his hands on her shoulders for balance.

“If you want me to stop,” Elita spoke carefully as she cupped the back of his helm with her other hand, “just tell me, okay?”

Tilting his head back, she leaned down with deliberate care and pressed their mouths together. There was a moment of perfect stillness, and then Orion’s glossa slipped out to tease the line of her mouth. 

The last of Elita’s self-control burned away as her engine roared and she tightened the arm around Orion’s waist, pulling his frame hard against her chassis. Her lips pressed harder against his as she opened her mouth to challenge his coquettishness with a daring foray of her glossa, tilting his helm back even further in the process. Orion’s engine _purred_ in response. 

Her first impression was that Orion wasn’t _nearly_ as inexperienced as she’d suspected from his shyness. The second was that he tasted so very _clean,_ unlike most of the low-caste mecha Elita had kissed in Kalis. It spoke of a higher-quality fuel, free from unpleasant tasting impurities and also missing the adulterants that were used in low-grade to reduce the cost of production while improving profits.

They battled this way for a klik or so, until the smothering heat from their venting became unbearable and they had to shift apart. She kept one hand on Orion’s waist, and the second slipped down to join it as curiosity got the better of her. 

Oh, _Primus._ She really _could_ fit both hands around him, even with her thumbs overlapping. The sight of it made her armor vibrate, her motor was purring so loudly. 

Orion’s hands slipped down to cover her own, and a low, aroused groan escaped him as he realised what had her so fascinated with that part of his frame. “Would... would you like to take this to the berthroom?”

Elita pulled him back against her frame before she leaned forward to whisper in his audial; “I’d rather have you against the wall, to be honest.” 

The ambient temperature spiked suddenly as Orion’s engine roared in approval, provoking a startled but pleased growl from her own. She grinned as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck to muffle his quiet moan, dragging one hand away from that gorgeous waist to slap his aft. “Why don’t you go lean against the wall for me, little archivist? Brace your arms against it while you spread those lovely legs of yours?”

Elita might not have heard the choked noises Orion made in response had he not had his face pressed so tightly against her armor. His fingers gripped at her spaulders for a moment longer, before he pried himself away and slid off her lap. 

Taking the time to memorize the sight of his painfully charged frame, the over-bright light from her optics reflected a distinctly _liquid_ sheen smeared along his inner thighs, and Elita barely managed to conceal her moan beneath the near-constant purr from her engine. 

Orion was _so beautiful_ , but what aroused her more than anything else was the fact he wanted _her_ just as much as she desired _him._

He seemed to be taunting her deliberately when he crossed the room to brace himself the wall as she’d requested; his hips rocked from side to side as he shuffled his feet further apart and he arched his spinal strut so that his aft stuck out just _so..._

He’d rested his face against his forearms, but had his head turned so that he could still watch her response from his peripheral vision. 

She’d sat on the couch for several astroseconds, trying to choose from the myriad of suggestions her overcharged processor was throwing at her. While it would have been _very_ nice to sit a few breems longer and see just how much he was willing to perform for her... she really, _really_ wanted to find out if his valve tasted as clean and pure as his mouth had.

Moving with deliberate slowness, Elita rose to her feet and advanced on him, every motion screaming with predatory intent. Orion clearly approved of it, because his optics flickered and dimmed as his entire frame shivered with anticipation. 

Those lovely legs were the first recipient of her full attention; Elita caressed them with both hands, kneeling so that she could use her glossa to explore the areas her hands weren’t covering. The lubricant smeared along Orion’s inner thighs wasn’t quite as clean tasting as his oral fluid, flavoured with the chemical tang of the polish he must have used earlier. It wasn’t unpleasant by any means, and the quiet, choked off mewling it elicited from Orion made it taste even better. 

Elita slid her hands up and away from the inner edges of his wheel-wells to stroke questing thumbs along the exposed wires and cabling around his knee joints. The first gentle touch made his legs quiver badly, but the second and considerably _less_ timid stroke almost sent him to his knees. An overwhelmingly pleased whine escaped his vocalizer as the strength left his legs, and it cut off sharply when Elita reflexively cupped a hand under his interface panel in order to support his weight. 

Her processor went blank at the sheer _heat_ that radiated from it, and she came close to overclocking when Orion _whimpered_ and ground into her touch. 

_“Primus!”_ Elita groaned, pressing the heel of her palm harder against his panel to encourage Orion to continue. The sight of his hips making that shallow rocking motion was more erotic than _anything_ she’d ever seen, and more than anything she wanted to press him against the wall to frag him senseless.

It took more self-control than a Prime possessed for Elita to deny that urge. Instead, she shifted her hand so that it cupped his codpiece, leaving his valve cover unobstructed so she could lean forward and press a long, cruel _lick_ along it _._

Orion shuddered hard, and thrust his hips against her hand before pressing back against her glossa, clearly unable to decide which stimulation he wanted more. Elita helped him decide by gripping his codpiece firmly and pushing his hips back _hard_ so that she could taste the beads lubricant seeping from the seams. 

There was a strangled noise from above her and Orion retracted his interface cover without further warning, unleashing hot rivulets of lubricant that slid along Elita’s cheeks and dripped into her mouth. 

Orion’s valve tasted even _better_ than she’d expected. The lubricants were mild and smooth, and the underlying metallic flavor hinted _strongly_ that he’d been holding them in for quite some time. 

Her engine growling in approval, Elita pressed her mouth _hard_ against the rim of Orion’s valve and lapped against the nearest sensor nodes. She shifted both hands unconsciously, gripping Orion’s hips hard enough so that he couldn’t squirm away. It was incredibly difficult for her to divide her attention between giving his lovely valve the stimulation it so desperately deserved and listening to the glorious noises she was eliciting from the little archivist. 

So deeply involved in tasting every inch of Orion’s valve that her glossa could reach, it took Elita a few kliks to realise that he wasn’t just making incoherent noises of pleasure anymore- in fact, there was _quite_ a lot of begging going on, past the breathy whimpers and choked off moans! 

Deciding to be merciful wasn’t a completely selfless decision- Elita’s spike was making it’s needs painfully clear to her. Sealing her mouth over several external nodes, she sucked and Orion let out a sudden shriek as he overloaded, _hard_. Only her hands—still wrapped around his hips—kept him upright afterwards. 

Licking her lips, Elita rose to her feet and pressed her achingly hot codpiece against Orion’s aft. It was difficult to keep her spike sealed away, but she managed to hold on. “Are you ready to continue, pet?” She whispered into his audial. 

Orion moaned lowly and pressed harder against her, as if she _needed_ the extra encouragement; “Primus, _yes!_ ” 

She pulled away a little, just far enough so that she could turn Orion so that they were chassis-to-chassis, before pressing herself flush against his frame once more. He looked up at her, and his optics flickered before he tucked his helm against her chest. “O-oh, I apologize!” He squeaked, clearly embarrassed. 

Bewildered, Elita shifted away a little. “What? Why?”

Orion lifted one hand and stroked her face, before turning it to show her the thick smear of lubricant he’d wiped away. “I don’t normally ... make so much of a mess. Let me get you someth—”

He started to slide away, but Elita’s grip on his hips tightened as she pushed him back against the wall, and he glanced up with a worried expression. The feral smirk she wore did not reassure him at _all._ “I would imagine it’s _my_ turn to make a mess of you?” 

Those large blue optics brightened with surprise before his engine revved approvingly, and he managed a coy, permissive smile. Rather than lean down again, Elita lifted Orion into another messy, enthusiastic kiss which also conveniently raised his hips precisely high enough for her spike—once she extended it, at least. 

Elita groaned into Orion’s mouth as she finally retraced her panel, the considerable level of heat her spike possessed radiated against his exposed valve, encouraging his thighs to clench tightly around her waist. Then the little tease _rubbed_ the slick rim of his valve against her—a motion so unexpectedly _provocative_ that she nearly glitched. It took her several long moments to reassemble her wits, after which she clamped her hands down _hard_ on Orion’s hips so that he couldn’t repeat the motion. 

“I’m going to make you _scream,_ Pax,” she promised, “your frame is _never_ going to forget me!”

The moan she provoked from him was gratifyingly weak and wanting; “ _Please!”_

Elita kissed him hard again, pressing the back of his helm against the wall as she tilted his hips just so, pressing the head of her spike against his valve. There was an agonizing astrosecond of stillness as she let him feel the heat from her spike seeping into his valve, before she pushed _forward_ and _up_.

Orion’s thighs clenched painfully hard around her, the hands on her shoulders tensing up as well. She could feel his calipers resize to fit her considerable girth, trembling and clenching around her before reluctantly relaxing only to start over.

_Oh Primus._ How could _anyone_ be so tight _?_ In yet another magnificent show of self control, Elita managed to hold herself still until Orion’s valve settled snugly around the upper half of her spike. As good as the fluttering and clenching had felt, it was a clear sign that a moment was required for his valve to properly adjust to her girth. 

Elita vented hot air into the crook of Orion’s neck, focusing on the lovely noises he was making as his legs clenched around her hips, trying to encourage her to press deeper. Listening to him was making both her ego and desire swell, and she thoughtfully obliged by shifting her stance and pushing deeper into his valve with fierce satisfaction.

Oh, but Orion was _so hot_ inside! It dragged her attention away from the way he squirmed and arched against her, his blunt fingers scraping the paint away from her upper back in long lines. The desperate, unbroken litany of pleading promises got even _more_ passionate, Orion frantically trying to provoke her to be rougher, frag him _harder push him down and make him scream leave him so dented and scraped all over with her pink so everyone knew what they’d done so it wouldn’t just be his valve that never forgot her touch._

Elita shuddered and pushed herself deeper into him, until the final _click_ sounded as their plating pressed up flush against each other. Orion’s awed gasp was _most_ flattering as he stilled against her completely- only his valve moved, rhythmically clenching and relaxing around her entire length. 

It felt _amazing._

“ _Nnngh_ , if I could I would take you back to Kalis with me.” Elita murmured, dragging her glossa over a swollen coolant line. “I’d be eager to return to that little apartment as long as you were lying in my berth, waiting to be fragged insensate.” 

The idea must have appealed, because Orion shuddered and gripped her even _harder,_ a breathy moan escaping his vocalizer. “My friends would love to meet you,” Elita’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper; “they’d beg to be allowed a chance to ‘face you, too. Would you like that, Orion? Being passed around by us? Some of them are even _bigger_ than I am.”

He was staring up at her with wide optics, silent until his vocalizer managed to produce a desperate whimper. Her armor was very sturdy, a necessity for any physically dangerous career, but Orion’s grip on her was starting to leave dents. “ _Please!”_ He managed to croak, and Elita gave a startled rev _._ Well; who could have guessed that such a quiet, bashful little thing could be so _kinky?_ He really did appear to be enthralled by the idea!

Leaning down, she encouraged him to open into another deep kiss, rewarding him for being so sweetly willing even though the idea was unrealistic. Gripping his hips, she slowly dragged him up and off her spike- this was clearly something Orion found displeasing, because he tried to grip her even harder with his legs while moaning unhappily into Elita’s mouth. 

Of course, it exploded into an ecstatic scream the moment she dragged him back down into a hard thrust. He threw his head back against the wall as he vented hard; “ _Please, don’t stop!_ ” 

Elita didn’t think she was physically able to continue teasing him at this point, Orion simply felt _too good._ She worked him at a hard and fast pace, urged on and rewarded by the unrestrained relish in the sounds Orion was making now that he had abandoned all pretense of reticence. 

Orion stuck mostly to whimpering staticky pleas and provocations, only quieting when he needed to reset his vocalizer before he became too unintelligible. His helm tilted forward until it rested against Elita’s shoulder, rolling limply from side to side as he vented hot air into the seams of her armor and shifted his frame to meet every thrust. 

Elita turned her head and let her lubricant-slick lips slide up the edge of the archivist’s finial, purring low enough so that the vibrations provoked a fresh round of shivering. _Primus,_ he was wonderful but she wanted to see his expression!

One hand reluctantly released it’s hold on his hip so that Elita could grip his other finial, using it to lift his head off her shoulder and tilt it backwards. “Don’t hide your face, pet.” She murmured, scraping her dentes along the smooth edge of his jaw before shifting a little lower.

At first Elita restrained herself, merely smearing her oral lubricants (along with a considerable amount of Orion’s valve lubricant) along the wires and conduits of his unarmored throat. Only once they were slick and glistening did she use her dentes to pinch specific lines before discharging short bursts of static, directing the energy straight into his system. 

The first shock elicited a surprised yelp from Orion, his valve clenching tight around her reflexively. The second was rather sharper, control slipping from Elita as her processor stalled under the flood of rapturous sensation. Orion’s armor rattled as he _shrieked_ through his second overload, and Elita bit down hard as her own powerful climax left her strutless, yet oddly unsated. 

She came back to herself still wrapped around Orion, his hands gently stroking the planes of her crest. “ _Oh, Primus_.” He kept repeating, quietly. “ _Primus,_ you were amazing. I- I’ve _never_ overloaded that hard before.” 

The warm afterglow burned away as a flash of wickedness pushed itself to the forefront of Elita’s processor. “You were wonderful too, Orion,” she murmured, “but I’m not even _close_ to being done.”

A low moan greeted her statement along with a ripple of pressure around her sheathed spike, provoking more of their mingled lubricant and transfluid to seep out Orion’s valve and drip down her thighs. 

Elita’s engine gave a growl of desire, and she pulled his frame down hard so that the vibrations running through her spike lit up every sensor in his valve. “You think you can keep up? I might be a femme, but my stamina is _considerable_ , even by mech standards.”

Orion managed to make another weak, desirous noise, even as he gathered together enough processing power to respond coherently. “You...” his lips quirked up into a smile, “you really think you could frag me into stasis?” Keeping his tone lightly teasing, Orion’s fingers delicately searched out hotspots along the cabling of her neck. 

He got a deep, rumbling growl in return and Elita dragged him up into another kiss as she staggered to her feet, keeping him fully impaled on her spike the entire time. “You’ll be _begging_ for fuel before I’m even _halfway_ finished with you.” 

Orion purred into the kiss, a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. “Promises,” he murmured against her lips, “the berthroom is on the left, if you’re finished denting my walls?” 

Elita’s engine gave another dangerous growl, and she nipped at his lower lip in mock-rebuke. “You know, I don’t think I want to frag you through the berth anymore.” 

Orion stared at her in wide-eyed consternation as she carried him through to the berthroom. “No?”

“No.” She stopped at the foot of the berth, and then swiveled so that her back was to it.

“Wha- _oh!_ ” Orion gasped as Elita lifted him partway off her spike before she toppled over backwards onto the berth. Gravity- her ally in this, at least- dragged Orion’s valve back down the length of her spike, until his aft _clunked_ against her pelvis loudly. The noise was almost, but not quite loud enough to drown out his ragged _moan,_ and the calipers of his valve clenched around her in a clear surge of pleasure _._

“You’re going to ride me, Orion.” Elita purred, her hands rubbing and squeezing at the smaller mech’s thighs. “I want to see you _earn_ this next overload, _little archivist._ Show me you can do more than tag data.” 

It took Orion the best part of a klik to recover his senses enough to be a little miffed by Elita’s teasing, his pride urging him to accept her challenge and exceed her expectations. 

He took a moment to clench down hard around her spike, before shifting his legs so that he could lift himself higher. Elita made a strangled noise, but kept her hips from jerking up off the berth after him. “You little _tease!”_ She growled, her hands clenching down harder on his thighs. 

Orion couldn’t conceal his smug pride, but before Elita could comment he dropped back down hardand a binary _shriek_ escaped her. _Oh!_ Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to hand over control to Orion? She wasn’t going to last very long if he kept this up!

“Need a reprieve, _femme_?” Orion’s entire posture screamed of smugness, and Elita _really_ would have turned him over her knee and made him squeal, except he chose that moment to do... _something_ with his valve that turned her vocalizer to static and made her hips lurch up uncontrollably, engine roaring. 

“ _Wh-”_ Elita’s vocalizer gave an embarrassing squeak and she was forced to reset it before continuing, “ _what was that?”_

“Something I learned from a datapad in the Hall.” Orion purred, before the little spiketease _did it again._ Elita gave another staticky rasp as he entire body spasmed and arched up, her hands leaving dents in the armor of his thighs. “I’m impressed, most mecha would have overloaded by this point!” He gave a satisfied little wriggle, grinding himself against her hips and rocking from side to side. 

“You... _what?”_

Her incoherence clearly pleased him, because he pried one of Elita’s hands off his thigh so that he could bring it to his mouth, teasing the joints with his glossa to delay his response. “Well,” he began, “most mecha don’t know this, but the Hall doesn’t just contain history and dry research records.”

Elita watched in silent captivation as he slid one of her fingers into his mouth and _sucked._ She could feel his glossa moving against the base, doing _wicked_ things to the worn components before he allowed her to slide it free with a slick _pop._

“It contains copies of _every_ piece of literature that was released publicly. Along with quite a few things that the general public has never seen.” 

Elita got a coy wink, and then Orion’s face was pressed against the palm of her hand, his glossa and fingers working at sensors that shouldn’t have felt _nearly_ as overstimulated as they were right now, considering how worn and damaged they were from her labour-intensive job. 

Her optics flickered off, and she only realised what a bad idea _that_ was when Orion performed his evil little trick again- and when used in combination with his glossa... Elita couldn’t hold back her howl; it felt so _good,_ but repressing her overload was agony! 

Orion dropped her hand with a gasp when her hips jerked up into him without warning, bracing himself with both hands flat against her abdomen as she kept thrusting up into him. Adapting to it quickly, he adjusted his motions so that he could meet each of her thrusts, squeezing his calipers tight each time she drew back. 

A low groan caught in Elita’s throat, both hands stroking Orion’s sides without restraining his movements. “Orion— _oh Primus!”_

He grabbed her hands then, bringing them up to his face to lavish them with kisses as she struggled to adjust to the sudden one-eighty degree turn of events. Back in the tavern, she’d thought that Orion was the one being set up by his friend… but now it was looking a lot more like _she’d_ been set up. 

N-no! She was _not_ going to let this little cyber-minx show her up! 

Elita wrapped the hand Orion was worshipping around his finial and dragged him down so that she could kiss him senseless, her other hand clasping his hip so that she could roll them over while he was distracted, reversing their positions. 

The archivist gave a surprised grunt at the move, the heat of which seared down her intake to provoke a pleased shiver. She tightened her grip on Orion’s hip as she drew her spike free, and _that_ was clearly an unpopular move- both her equipment and Orion were making their protests _quite_ clear.

“Shh, my pet.” Elita’s tone was teasing, and she pressed one hand against Orion’s chassis to hold him in place as she shifted to straddle his torso, her painfully needy spike jutting out eagerly before she clenched it in a loose grip. 

His startled expression remained in the few astroseconds it took for Elita to stroke herself to overload, splattering her transfluid over Orion’s face and chest in thick, ropey loops. The light from his optics reflected off the mineral-rich fluid, turning it a brilliant blue that looked so _lovely_ against Orion’s chassis that Elita recorded the image to her long-term storage drive, warmth for those inevitable lonely nights in her future. 

She could see Orion heating up as he processed the vulgarity of what had just happened, and his optics flickered up to meet her smug, admiring gaze. “I—I suppose that _was_ fair _,_ considering the mess I made of you earlier.” The corner of his mouth twitched up, “And you did say you intended to return the favour…” The smile grew, before he deliberately flicked his glossa at a string of transfluid oozing down his chin. 

“ _You little spark plug!_ ” Elita growled, and careless of the mess she reached out to clasp Orion’s helm between his hands to pull him into another blisteringly hot kiss. He tasted rather more metallic now, and his oral fluids were rich with dark-tasting ozone and sharp static; faintly reminiscent of lustrous coronae and overheated ports. He tasted like _pure interfacing,_ and Elita knew the mere thought of this lightweight frame and those bright colours would forever be associated with intense arousal and overloads her in processor.

Orion was moaning into the kiss, rocking his hips up against her as his fingers clenched hard on her shoulders- “ _Please,”_ he whispered once he managed to disentangle their glossae, “please!”

Elita purred against his trembling lips; “All charged up with no way to overload, hmm?” 

That earned her a petulant glare in reply, but the effect was rather diminished with his face smeared with transfluid, lips scuffed and optics bright with overcharge. He just looked even more like a hedonist’s _dream._

Smirking, Elita trailed the tip of her glossa along his cheek to the corner of his optic before pressing a gentle kiss over the shutter. “What would you like now, Orion?”

“Frag me, please!”

“That’s all?” Elita nibbled her way across the edge of his finial, grinding her dentes gently and flicking little bolts of static into the thin veneer. 

Orion’s hands bolted up to grip her crest, dragging her helm down so that he could stare straight into her optics; “I want you to give me your all, I want you to _frag me through this berth.”_

Her engine gave a great roar in response, and Orion ground his hips hard against her, absorbing the vibrations with vocal relish. “ _Yes!_ ”

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, pet, and make that aft of yours look _irresistible!”_

In the end, she’d had to assist Orion to unwind his legs from around her hips, rolling him over as he tried to grind his valve against her thigh. His arms had refused to take his weight, and Orion ended up with his face pressed against the berth, one dim optic peering over his shoulder at Elita.

She, however, was too focused on the dripping, heated folds of his valve. Elita was briefly tempted by the thought of tasting him once more, but her systems gave an anxious _throb_ at the thought of not sheathing her spike deep within him soon. 

“ _Please,_ ” Orion’s voice rasped, hoarse with need. Elita hadn’t _intended_ to hesitate long enough to tease, but the way the little archivist arched his back, raising his aft up higher as his hips ground against the heated atmosphere between them…

Elita’s thumbs traced through the lines of lubricant streaking Orion’s thighs before pressing against the soft mesh of his valve, pressing them apart to better appreciate the view. She knew it was cruel from the fervent groan the move elicited, the way Orion’s inner calipers clenched and relaxed as fresh lubricant beaded against her digits. “ _Please, spike me!_ ”

“So polite,” she teased, “even though I’ve revved you fit to melt.” 

Elita waited until Orion collected himself enough to respond, thrusting in _hard_ just as he opened his mouth.

_Oh,_ but that staticky _keen_ was more than worth the effort! Her spike revelled in the hot embrace of his valve, the way his calipers clenched and trembled around her sheer _girth_ as his systems both protested and glorified in being filled to capacity.

Elita struck up a hard, fast pace; both hands wrapped tight around Orion’s sturdy hips as she worked on plowing him through the berth. She tried to focus on keeping a hard rhythm going at first, but it built her charge up far too fast which would _not_ be conducive to driving the little tease into the exhausted stasis she had planned. 

Fortunately for her, Orion was more than enough of a distraction on his own. The way his back arched with each thrust, grinding his sparkplates against the berth; the way his fingers twitched and clenched reflexively, twisting the mesh around his fingers as he braced for each thrust.

She stared at those lovely hands for a klik or so, marvelling at how much strength his little frame possessed—which only drew Elita’s attention back to the way his valve clenched and rippled around her spike, copious amounts of hot lubricant and sticky transfluid dripping between them and the _filthy wet_ noises their coupling provoked. 

Oh Primus, she needed another distraction and _fast._

It took a little armor-shifting and a lot of focus, but Elita managed to contort her frame just enough to plant a kiss over Orion’s upper dorsal plate. He had initially complained at the sudden switch from hard-and-deep to slow-and-shallow, but the rasp of her dentes over his armor followed by the sharp _nip_ along the edge had him gasping and shivering, a single optic peering over the line of his pauldron. 

Elita peered from beneath the line of her brows, flickering one dim optic in a cheeky wink before licking a path higher, to where the cables of his neck joined his torso in neat lines. 

Orion whimpered and pressed his hips closer to her own, tucking his head lower to expose more of his cabling to her attentions, and Elita lurched forward to take full advantage of the unspoken invitation. Her dentes sank into his primary neural cable, dripping static that was conducted straight into the shielded core.

Orion’s reaction was instantaneous.

His frame arched hard, the force of it almost lifting her off the berth as his vocalizer screeched static, optics flaring so brightly that they lit the room in shades of blue. Elita could only hold on as she rode out their mutual overload—there was no holding it back now, with his valve clenching and rippling as though it would never let her go, squeezing out every last microunit of transfluid she possessed until she had been drained dry and even _beyond_ that. 

He was trembling now, every linkage in his frame taut and hot and Elita realized she still had his neural cable between her dentes, and that pinching it tight had extended his overload far beyond the norm. 

She gave one final squeeze with her dentes, and then a soothing lick before she pried her teeth out of the soft insulation, earning a weak groan from Orion as his clenching valve and tense frame slowly relaxed beneath her.

Drawing her spike free—along with a hot rush of transfluid and lubricant—Elita relaxed her grip on Orion, allowing him to slump against the berth strutlessly, his overworked vents apparently the only part of his system still online.

Elita allowed herself a smug chuckle. “I _told_ you I’d frag you into stasis, little mech.”

Although… it didn’t seem like she was going to be able to hold out much longer either. Elita managed to drag the heavily soiled mesh out from underneath Orion’s limp frame, shoving it on the floor so that it didn’t stick to their frames as it dried. 

She couldn’t remember much beyond that, except for the warm, purring weight of the little archivist draped over her chassis. 

\--

Primus. How overcharged had she gotten last night? 

Elita’s entire frame ached, the warmth of her self-repair working only fractionally easing the omnipresent, burnt-out throbbing of her systems. There were three messages logged in her HUD, waiting patiently for her acknowledgement.

Everything came back to her as she opened the first.

_Elita,_

_I apologize for leaving you so soon, but work calls and the Head Archivist is most unforgiving to staff who call off work with the excuse ‘got fragged halfway to offlining by a beautiful femme’, no matter how accurate. Firestar should be waiting for you in the living area with fuel, and you are welcome to use my facilities!_

_I cannot thank you enough for such a memorable night, it’s only a shame that I have to work so soon afterwards. The ache will keep my memories of you fresh for many mega-cycles._

_Orion_   
  


Mmm. She could just imagine the poor little mech squirming on his seat at work, unable to find a sitting position that soothed his aching aft. Grinning, Elita eased herself out of his berth and staggered into the living area in search of her friend and fuel.

Firestar was draped over Orion’s couch, a cube of finely filtered mid-grade in one hand as she lazily watched a holovid. 

“Finally awake?” Firestar fixed Elita with a studious gaze, a knowing smirk gracing her face. “I gather you enjoyed yourself, last night?”

“Nnnn, _enjoyed_ doesn’t even half describe it.” Elita shoved her friend to the side before collapsing beside her, gratefully accepting the cube she was offered. “Such a shame he had to work,” she sighed in between measured sips. “How was Jazz?”

“More than worth the trip to Iacon,” Firestar jammed an elbow into Elita’s side, grinning mercilessly, “wouldn’t you agree?”

Making a show out of deliberation, Elita finally shoved back playfully. “Of course, I will concede that you are the superior vacation-decision maker.” Iacon hadn’t _nearly_ been as stuffy and pretentious as she’d imagined. 

“And it’s not over yet,” Firestar’s grin grew even more excited, “ _someone_ was _so_ satisfied after I’d finished fragging him senseless that he gave me a gift.” She slipped a datapad from her subspace, pressing it into Elita’s hand with expectant eagerness.

It activated with a touch, and Elita startled as she realized what it was. “Primus, they have an Arena _here?”_

“Yes! I couldn’t believe it, but Jazz showed me some of the fights he’d attended and gave me the exact coordinates _and_ first-class tickets!”

Elita couldn’t hold back her laugh, “I told you that your spike was perfect!” Leaning forward, she kissed Firestar excitedly, tucking the datapad out of the way so that it wouldn’t be damaged as she ground their chassis together.

Firestar smirked into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Elita’s neck to keep her in place. “We can’t leave until you’ve cleaned up; if you go out in public as you are now you’d be arrested for indecency!”

Elita looked down at herself and chuckled. “Care to scrub my back for me?”

“I’ll scrub _more_ than just that,” Firestar purred, rolling them both off the couch.

\--


End file.
